daddy. i know i no longer call you this way.

there are some nights where i catch myself thinking about your wounds.

your hurting heart.

i am sorry i couldnt be the daughter you kept thinking about when you had your twenty years.

but you are not the father i kept thinking about when i had five.

father. i waited for hours as a child.

now i wait years.

i still think you will show up.

because when you call me after school

there are no more excuses for me to say.

when the phone is on the table

the only thing my eyes can do is to make myself a living river.

my feet pressed to the ground

against my will i start to drown

not in water but in my words not said

and your eyes beautifully brown.